


Rainstorm: The Biography of Gellert Grindelwald

by Findora1020



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Top Gellert Grindelwald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-01 07:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16760791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findora1020/pseuds/Findora1020
Summary: The biography of Gellert Grindelwald, who is a madman, a revolutionist, a despot, a killer and a racist of great egoism.Please note this work is a translation of《暴雨：盖勒特·格林德沃传记》by紅 with permission.(http://who-cares-whether-you-care.lofter.com/post/1f208ba9_12c823cdb)





	1. Chapter 1

1.

Grindelwald knew that he was born with the talent of fascinating people. His appearance, voice, tone and gestures, the abilities which those top politicians need to practice for thousands of time, were natural. He was so experienced: to manipulate people only needs to control their desires. It took him just one glance to know what they were thinking of, because to some extent that was part of him too. He had felt, mediated, and craved for it before; he was in the same body with hundreds of souls. He empathized with everyone, knowing their wants, but paid no attention since he did the same to himself. His passion was inspired by something greater. This craving run through his veins, and the buzzing of his thoughts was calling that he could never bear this pale, boring, and ordinary life. He would achieve glory; he was meant for that.

Grindelwald tried his talent for the first time in the summer when he met Albus Dumbledore, on whom he practiced it over and over again. He knew about Albus, who is an excellent student, a freak, and a son of prisoner, with a secret never seeing the light of day. Albus walked in sunshine, loaded with chains. Grindelwald understood with great interest that this man desired power as much as he did: the craving for his name spread over the world and riding on the thestral across thunderstorm.

Then he began to lure his friend carefully: first with kindness, then with knowledge, finally with arrogance. The tricks fooling the common herd— exaggerating, picturing splendid scenes, predicting hastily and repeating time after time— also worked on this genius. Theories and words were alluring, and he knew he was born with it. The only thing he didn’t expect was that this redheaded eyeful was also witted, which he appreciated a lot. He was willing to let Albus stay by his side forever, with the premise that Albus would never hurt him— he had to cast a spell. As long as Albus always stood shoulder to shoulder with him, he even would like to share his victory: G&A, the eternal masters of death.

2.

Gellert Grindelwald carried his suitcase, running totteringly in a rainy night. His face was wet through, with no tears but the dirty rain in summer in fishy smell of the soil and the death in cemetery. Different from others, failure loaded him with no disappointment, but with fury. He irritably recalled his defeat over and over: Albus Dumbledore knelt in muddy water, while he fled like a coward. He was carried away by irritation: Was he being overhasty? Was it a mistake to ignore those stupid, inferior creatures? It finally came to him that he could use his brain no more since he was filled with the howls of grieve, the face of Albus Dumbledore: pale and stiff that it was hard to distinguish him from his sister that who was _that dead body_.

Grindelwald roared in woods. Trees fell down; a fire rose in rains; the ground cracked; lightning streaked across the night sky. His case broke into pieces. He had never tasted such disgusting failure in his entire life, which almost drove him crazy. He realized something, though he told it to go to hell, that he lost Albus Dumbledore, at present, in the future, and _forever_.

3.

Gellert continued his life as a vagabond from Germany to Austria, France, Belgium, and Switzerland. Sometimes he spent nights in the streets and slept rough, while sometimes he mingled with muggles. The loss of Dumbledore had been left behind, but there might be some moments when he missed Dumbledore like missing a partner of mutual goals. He joined the army with a disguise, facing the rumble of gunfire and the storm of shots. He wandered in politic fields, witnessing nauseating hypocrisy and incompetent waverers. He read muggles’ newspapers, attended their assemblies, watched them sending the youth into a mincer called War.

He didn’t hate muggles, whom he considered as another different species. They said they wanted freedom, but in fact they just hated their masters; They said they pursued equality, but actually they were only hostile to the superior ones; They resisted despotism, but then they turned to power swiftly. Compared with enslaving others, they were more interested in being enslaved. They were weak, shallow, under the control of impulsion. They weren't qualified to rule the wizards; or they weren’t qualified to rule themselves. One day they would ruin their own civilization completely, and then dragged the wizarding world down to their level. Experiencing the ugly mugs of muggles, he missed his wizard brothers more than ever; he firmly believe that _magic would be only born in rare souls_.

4.

He began to deliver speech in taverns, streets, and the classes of universities. Slowly he had his own followers, own assemblies. The adept skills in his adolescent had come in handy. There was no one who wasn’t obsessed in him, and no one who could ignore his alluring words. He played with their hearts, like shaping plasticine models. All his believers sincerely trust him that muggles were destroying both two worlds, particularly in overseas America. Wizards should rule muggles, and muggles, as the people of wizards, would be much happier than being their own. Therefore, the whole human civilization were able to get access to innovative development.

Grindelwald started to select the elite, forming the upper class of his organization. They had to be fanatical since with the perusal of the history of muggles and wizards, he knew that the greatness in every institution built on idealism lies in insanity and persistence. This organization must attack others, believing in its own validity. Only this kind of organization could display enough strong tenacity to achieve the goal. As long as the idea was correct, the organization was unstoppable. Meanwhile, these elite must have an iron will with a clear militarization management. He must ensure that this army was invincible, authoritative because only in this way could he win support from those ignorant masses. Those cowardly idiots wouldn’t be convinced by great thoughts; they concentrated on their own interests, only knowing about victory or defeat.

Indeed, he succeeded. By promoting, courting, and assassinating, he took control of German Ministry of Magic, and began to negotiate with the leaders of Germany. However, he didn’t like this small fellow since this muggle was complacent about his worshippers, dreaming that everyone knelt down to please him. Thus, abolishing International Statute of Secrecy had to be put off temporarily. He slowly approached to America, France, and Austria. Then he was encountered with fling abuses, insult, and manhunts, of which he were proud; any slander meant the timidity of the opponents. Actually, he thought nothing of them.

5.

He became increasingly busy: searching for the track of the Elder Wand, expanding the dark magic, training his subordinates, and delivering speech. The thought of Dumbledore only flashed through his mind when he said that slogan— _For the Greater Good_. Unfortunately, he needed to say it frequently, which was one of the worst decisions in his early stage. He never lacked sex partners, no matter beautiful men or women, but he never seemed to be satisfied. After so many years Grindelwald finally admitted that the defeat in the hollow of that summer influenced him much more than he had originally imagined. Once he was fond of something, he must take utter control of it, then becoming more and more suspicious. He knew that his subordinates were gossiping about the redheaded girl in Austria. Eventually they had to pretend that she slipped into the water then drowned, and laboriously removed the fingerprints from her neck. Probably she leaked his whereabouts, or probably she didn’t— but Grindelwald never took risk.

Gradually, he found himself in trouble; he hated the fool since they made him feel like he was fucking a swine. He liked the clever, but they were often more difficult to control. He loved their out of control, but they had to be _under his control_. They couldn’t betray; betrayal wasn’t allowed. Once they betrayed, death was the end— but obedience soon fell dull on him. He never had a lover who survived longer than three months, and later he never had a lover anymore. He came to resent Albus Dumbledore; At some point, Albus stole away part of him, which had been left in Godric’s Hollow for ever. He had no way to love anyone else in the rest of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

6.

No one had anticipated their failure of the mission in England. They secretly set sentries around the Wizengamot: at midnight, the door would be opened inside with four calls of owls. They would unlock the cage and free the convict, setting fire on this magical structure which existed over one hundred years . However, Grindelwald felt an ominous silence. He was a seer, and never ignored his hunch, though he never believed or tried to change it. He told his subordinates who left guarding his headquarters in England, but received a strange report that there was a glowing red light in his luggage. The subordinates opened up the case with commands, then surprisingly found that the source was an ingenious silver gadget, emitting dazzling light like blood.

Grindelwald swore loudly, then quickly led other wizards back. Their underground castle should have been protected by unbreakable vow, but now it was filled with light of spells and shout of insanity. His hear was beating faster and faster. He wasn’t the Gellert Grindelwald of 16 years old, and this time the defeat brought him rage as well as vaguely agitation. He rushed into the crowd and raised his wand, calling the fierce wind; every time he knocked down an Auror, he let out a growl as the thunder through the sky. He waved his wand along the way, like a knife cutting up butter, was about to strike a decisive blow to his enemy— But a unfamiliar figure appeared in front of him; his body recognized the man first, earlier than his mind. His wand suddenly misfired, while the long-lost mixed feelings stirred in him , which reduced him to silence completely.

He stared at this man, whom he tried to hurt but his wand tried to protect. He could barely recognize him at the first sight. The familiar gentle smiles of the youth disappeared to be replaced by grieve and rage, and a glint of mockery was added when Albus Dumbledore looked at him. In this brief moment, the desire for control barely overwhelmed him: this is his equal, his other, the ally of past, the enemy at present. He once dreamt of achieving glory together, promising no hurt to each other; now they met on the battlefield, fighting to the last gasp. But he wanted him. He wanted him to stand by his side, to realize all the nutty ideas, to tell him that no one else ever deserved his attention. _He wanted him!_

At that moment, his eyes reddened, but he quickly recovered. He killed many colleagues of Albus Dumbledore, perhaps many of his students as well. But since _a sister_ had been on the list, a few more people wouldn’t matter. Maybe he could coax Dumbledore back with honeyed words and empty promises, like what he did before and also he was good at; after all they shared their blood and their heartbeats too. For the first time in his life, Grindelwald developed weak empathy.

A smile spread over his face: “ In the past twenty years, I’ve been thinking about you.”

It wasn't a lie, at least not an outright lie. His wand remembered him, and he could never get over him, for the things that happened existed forever.

7.

He wrote so many long letters to Dumbledore: of remorse, of agitation, of passion, with all his promises that turned out to be empty. Deep down, he never believed that Dumbledore would fall into the same river again, but he couldn’t control himself from trying. He no longer created chaos in England, but rather did them a favor sometimes; the owls with the sign of the Deathly Hallows frequently flew into the windows of Hogwarts; he spread the rumor that Grindelwald and Dumbledore were _close as brothers_ when they were young. He was confident that Dumbledore would be driven to his side; Grindelwald would never be the pleading one; he enjoyed being pleaded instead.

But there was no answer back. None. The owls safely returned, which meant they did send the letters. Grindelwald became explosive, and killed some unqualified subordinates by mistake, having to appear conciliatory with more blandishments. He extracted further information of England from planted agents in Ministry of Magic, knowing that Dumbledore had been closely monitored: his wand was confiscated and he was forced to take handcuffs. He thought Dumbledore already had enough, but still no reply— No! Dumbledore stood so firm that he almost doubted whether this person was his lover, who talked freely about their dreams and were enchanted by the Hallows and the future world. He checked his plan over and over again, almost refusing to face up to reality: he was defeated. He had to carefully recall the short summer days, admitting that Dumbledore was never his ally, but only another victim of love and illusions. Dumbledore had never supported him, never agreed with him. Poor man, Albus just loved him too much— a small compromise made to detain the lover, what a trifle!

He was pretty mad about it, and became more moody than ever; no one dared to bother him. He was up on the roof for a long time, with the pendant in his hands. He finally realized that it hurt him more than it might seem that Dumbledore had never supported his goal. Albus Dumbledore was more than an ally, a pretty plaything, a subject for experiment, a partner for lounging. Grindelwald eventually understood the cost for this, which was to high for him to burden, and he was too young when he paid. He readily won the adoration from Albus Dumbledore, the thing he did to the others; however, Albus kept his bloody heart in return.

8.

Some of his activities in Europe were thwarted. Though he had no proof, he knew it was attributable to Dumbledore. Separated from hundreds of miles, from the walls of Hogwarts, he felt so close to Dumbledore, closer than they were by the lakeside in the summer. They were so comfortable staying close with each other at that time, but Dumbledore was too obedient— he never knew what was in his head; now he clearly sensed them in blood in wrestling with sparks of the tension between them. For him, the thoughts of Dumbledore were as transparent as the glassy water.

Dumbledore placed great faith in muggles, in kindness: he always believed that the moronic could become paragons in the end; while Grindelwald sniffed at them. A duck would never turn into a swan for the weakness was deeply rooted in the blood, which was like an incurable cancer. The blindness amused him. Often, he never pretended to be patient to this kind of people, but Dumbledore was different: the naivety didn’t affect his extraordinary intelligence. Grindelwald took malicious pleasure for he would succeed, which made that idiot understand that he was the right one: the strong dominated the weak, the weak were born slaves. Everything was _for the greater good._

9.

Grindelwald sat on the roof of the church. He was interested in muggle's religious, and when he couldn’t find an alternative in wizarding world, he created one himself. His believers defied him, and he did give what they wanted: power and dreams. The war went on for several years, with ups and downs on each side; he had established an organization and swept out the countries in Europe except England. He edged out witch-hunting movement, and forced American government to amend International Statute of Secrecy. However, he couldn’t encroach upon England throughout; he couldn’t get Dumbledore. He knew he loved him; at the international conference, he took his arms from the rear in disguise, and felt a tremor in his hands. He surprisingly found out the truth that this man still loved him. This was absolutely a golden opportunity. He bent over and whispered, while the painful hesitancy was manifest in his eyes, which pleased him. The prey was caught in his trap.

He once thought he was near: it only took a bit more pressure to break Dumbledore down, and a bit more promises to let him fall, just like his other followers. He captures people’s desires at one glance, and that also worked on Dumbledore. This man struggled in chains, and his greatest wish was to atone for his crimes. Therefore, for him misery was delight, in which Grindelwald was lavish. Dumbledore couldn’t move against Grindelwald, and to some extent he didn’t want either, since he thought shame and wounds were what he deserved for his dull brain. However, Grindelwald understood that this poor man loved him too much; the self-torture he felt when they were together was far less than that when Dumbledore forced himself to against Grindelwald. Therefore, Gellert would never have this Christ.

This idea changed him: the fondness of Dumbledore turned into resentment. He managed to corner Dumbledore after the conference. God knows how grateful he was to Ministry of Magic— the handcuffs made it possible for Dumbledore to send out any distress signals. They fought like animals on the floor without wands. Eventually, the strength of desire and insanity gave Grindelwald the upper hand. When he was inside him, Dumbledore refused to shut his eyes. He sensed the danger from the gleam inside the distant blue eyes, a thrill that led to crazy excitement. From now on, my love, we are gonna play a totally different game. If you can’t kill me, you will die in my hands!

10.

He knew that Dumbledore must have got his lost pendant. It was a pity for it was a useful tool which would always anticipate the arrival of his professor. He thought Dumbledore would take good use of it since it could protect any place from the attack of Grindelwald. But he was wrong again. He was in his study that day, while suddenly an elusive presentiment flashed in his mind. Then his blood was getting hotter, so boiling that he almost screamed. He writhed in agony, tore at his clothes, smashed up any things he could reach, and knocked himself in blood. It was the pain from hundreds of miles away, and he knew that someone suffered at the same time. His fingers were uninjured, but the breaking sound of bones remained; he shouted with his mouth closed. Afterwards all these feelings began to fade like tides. Before the last kind of feeling from Dumbledore disappeared, a strange affection came to him in waves, which didn’t belong to him. With hesitation he put his hands on his chest, but from his eyes some bitter liquid, as boiling as his blood, trickled down his cheeks, like an ugly scar. From the eyes of an evil, there shed the tears of a saint.

He drew strength from rage, jeers, and animosity, but he hadn’t tasted grieve for too long.


	3. Chapter 3

11.

When the first owl from Hogwarts arrived, Grindelwald thought he would be satisfied, but he was pretty calm in fact, as he had already known the contents of the letter. The challenge from Dumbledore soon spread over Berlin by owls, and people had been abuzz with the declaration: the winner takes all, while the loser gives everything. Grindelwald almost uttered a snorting laugh when he read the letter. Dumbledore’s ruse was so obvious that he nearly showed appreciation. His lover knew him so; he still loved gambling like he used to. He had to admit that Dumbledore won this round. The strong will of having Dumbledore was as strong as that of killing him. He remembered long time ago, sitting under the tree, he once earnestly told Dumbledore that “to manipulate people only needs to control their desires.” And absolutely Albus was an excellent student at this point.  
They stood face to face, wand to wand, and an extraordinary soul to another one. This was the belated reckoning, which would end up with one servile. After so many years their wands finally were against each other, casting deadly spells like snakes. For duel he was of great attainment, but he found out that Dumbledore was no inferior, the level which shouldn’t belong to a professor. They moved close, then apart; sparks flew off in all directions, storms swept along, fire and ice eroded reciprocally, and the phoenix uttered a dismal scream. He enjoyed the thunders, every close face to death, and the cries and shouts of the crowd. Grindelwald began to laugh, slightly at first, then berserkly in the end. The faces of wizards around him suddenly darkened with unease, but none of these shallow would understand how fully delighted he was.  
He lost, the second defeat in his life. Every time was connected with Dumbledore, and marked the every turning point of his destiny. Only under the protection of Dumbledore would several Aurors dare to catch him, while he revealed a smile with his head held up high. He knelt as the born master, and Dumbledore stood as the eternal slave of past. Dumbledore was the betrayed of family as well as love; he would be buried in remorse and unable to raise his head in the rest of his life. Grindelwald would be pleased to abet this feeling, to tightly tie the saint to the cross. Therefore, he gazed at Dumbledore, laughing,  
“Congratulations, Albus. Finally you loses everything you love.”

12.

It was deadly dull in Nurmengard. The first two decades he had been planning escaping; he never thought about keeping that promise. But Dumbledore was too sly. Piles of newspapers were appreciating and applauding Dumbledore for his achievements, while Grindelwald himself, as the dark past of Dumbledore, was hidden secretly. After his caught, his followers were in chaos. Even some of the elite were still acting actively, the masses thinned at an expanded rate, which was mat his expectations; they concentrated on their own interests, only knowing about victory.  
During the two decades, at first his subordinates would bribed jailers with costly presents to treat him better; sometimes they would pay a visit and discuss what to next. But gradually the supervision became more and more strict, and there were less people here, and finally disappeared. From his supporters to his opponents, everyone had forgotten him. He experienced the process from ambitious to irritated to hopeless. The failure over and over again had taught the defiant soul what despair was. He smashed up all the furniture, lying still on the floor and laughing. He mocked that he would end his life in cockroach clusters, and let the greatest soul buried in dust. He never learnt sorrow, so the despair made him crazy. He ridiculed himself, ridiculed the whole world, ridiculed Albus Dumbledore and anything he looked down on. The furthest he went was the lake nearby the castle. His leg was broken and he had no strength to move on; the footsteps, the shouts, and the roars of animals was behind him. He sat by the lake, and gave up. Grindelwald turned to look in the lake, thinking about whether to end his meaningless life here.  
He couldn’t recognize the ugly face in the water; the man was totally bald.

13.

Grindelwald became silent. He wasn’t provided with any magical instruments, but never fell short in books. He guessed Dumbledore had ensured that he was free from torture, which almost made him laugh— Dumbledore began to feel regretful for him again. This idiot never learned to stop his unnecessary sympathy, which seemed humiliations at times. Dumbledore started to correspond with him. In the past years of his vagrant years, Dumbledore had never answered him. But during the days in Nurmengard guilt soon worked on Dumbledore. He detested this condescending sympathy, so he provoked him maliciously: the summer days, Dumbledore’s sister, and how much Dumbledore loved him and swore to be loyal, their imaginations of the future— he could do everything only to make Dumbledore feel more guilt. After all, in his boring life this was the only thing could satisfy his desire of controlling.  
Dumbledore got irritated about his trap. However, he felt lonely instead without his correspondence, and then he wrote flattery like he used to do. Dumbledore never seemed vindictive, and communicated with him again. It only took a few words that he found out their thoughts were still the same as nearly one century ago.  
He got love from too many people, but never like this; he felt too much adoration, but never so understanding. He had never thought about that Dumbledore would still love him. The fond love from Dumbledore was cheap, even humble, but he dared to offer him mercy. Dumbledore was too weak, but only hardhearted to him. They were playing Russian Roulette, but without realizing it, his stakes were so high and he lost. It doesn’t matter, for Dumbledore lost too. He knew that Dumbledore loved him; he knew that Dumbledore had nowhere to turn but to keep on loving him. He knew that Dumbledore would never get rid of his shadow.

14.

On the afternoon of that winter, the guards of Nurmengard saw the prisoner who dozed off against the wall suddenly opened his eyes. He said, “Could you give me a glass of wine?”  
The guard asked questioningly, “Why?”  
The prisoner said calmly, “To have a farewell drink for my old friend.”  
He was curious, “How do you know that?”  
The prisoner said, “I just know.”  
In his remaining years, Grindelwald saw more things than ever. The flames of a seer seemed to rage increasingly at the end of his life; usually he could see whatever he want. One day when he woke up from his dream, he clearly felt the sharp crack inside his heart, and realized that his prediction had come true. Therefore he stumbled from his bed and asked the guard for some wine. He and this young man wouldn’t live for long.  
Grindelwald never yielded to anyone, and the poor, shallow creature wouldn’t be an exception: he only knew about violence. And the soul like this would soil the power of the Elder Wand. If that wand didn’t belong to Grindelwald himself, there would be only one man who deserved it. It could rest in peace with its owner, waiting for the next genius to show up.  
Gazing at the furious new Dark Lord, Grindelwald couldn’t hold his laughter; all the time he enjoyed watching others in rage, which showed his victory only. He began to laugh: smiles, uncontrollable laughter, and hysterics. The wildness was different from the satisfaction during the duel, or the complacency during the killing, but similar to the shouts when he were on the broom, flying through the rainstorm at sixteen. The achievements and the failures in his entire life had passed; love and hatred also disappeared, but he was still the Grindelwald of sixteen. He never regretted; if there was one chance to start over, he still, and only would live his life in this way—  
— A burst of green light filled the room in Nurmengard.

**Author's Note:**

> The translator: This is my first time trying translation and if you find any mistakes in grammar or in expressions, please comment down to tell me. Thanks for your reading, folks.


End file.
